A Street Rat and a Street Thug
by Pretty-Punk-Princess
Summary: Ramira Kitsuma is new to the WWE. Watch her shake up the WWE and John Cena's world.
1. An Introduction to the Rat

A tall figure glided through the revolving door of WWE headquarters in Greenwich Connecticut. She did not appear to work there, nor did she appear to be a diva, rather she looked more like a street rat.

She was wearing black Doc Martin's with her tattered jeans tucked into the top of the books. The jeans had so many holes in them that she wore tights underneath them to maintain some modesty. The tights, however, were blood red and sheer. The shirt she wore was a faded Misfit t-shirt that had the bottom cut away to reveal her midriff.

As she moved toward the secretary the woman flipped her long black hair with blue streaks in it over her shoulder. Nervously looking around the secretary was trying to think of why the street rat could be here. "Can I help you," she finally said.

"Actually honey, yes you can," the street rat grinned. "Point me towards Vinny Mac's room and be quick about it," she said.

"Well Mr. McMahon is in a business meeting at this moment…" the blonde secretary began to stammer.

"Fabulous," the street rat exaggerated, "Well, where exactly is this meeting at?"

"Ma'am he does not want to be disturbed and I can not…" the secretary was cut off as the street rat interrupted her, again. Walking around the side of the desk the secretary sat at the woman leaned over and glanced at a list of rooms.

"You can't be here," the secretary shouted.

"Eh hold on chickie I'll be done in a moment," the street rat murmured.

"Security," the secretary shouted. Quickly found what she was looking for and ran towards the elevators narrowly missing the burly security guards. As the doors of the elevators closed the woman yelled, "Thanks for the room number honey!"

As Vince McMahon was just finishing up a stockholders meeting when the doors to his conference room burst open. Coolly he picked his head up and saw the street rat lounging against the now battered door frame.

"Ah gentlemen this is the young woman I was talking about. This little lady here is going to kick our ratings up and be a catalyst in the next stage of WWE history. Gentlemen meet Ramira Kitsuma who also goes by Truant."


	2. Sunday Night Lights

Ramira walked into the HSBC arena the following Sunday night to make her first appearance on TV. Yawning, it occurred to her that she needed to find the woman's locker room.

Eventually by wandering relentlessly around the backstage hallways for a good forty minutes she found the woman's locker room.

Because it was a Sunday Night Heat not many Divas were on hand. Lilian Garcia appeared to be the only woman using the locker room. Closing the door Ramira walked in and placed her duffel bag on a bench.

"Hi," pausing Lilian raised her eyes to meet Ramira's, "you must be Truant."

"Um… yeah but just call me Ramira. Truant's only an in-ring type deal ya know," she added.

"Yeah I kind of figured that out, but when running over the script for entrances I only get in ring names so ya know kinda hard."

"Yeah I guess," Ramira laughed, "So anyone else in here tonight or just us?"

"Well I do believe that Lita is schedule to do a small run in tonight with Gene Snitsky," Lilian said, adding a shudder to the last part.

"You mean that uber creepy dude that stalks almost anything with a rack on," Ramira asked slightly disgusted.

"Yeah you nailed it on the head," Lilian laughed.

Smiling Ramira turned to the locker and took off her leather jacket and placed it in the small cubby hole that had been provided to her for the night. Yawning Ramira took the next twenty minutes before Heat started to put on a pair of cut up jeans with blue tights underneath them, roll up the pant legs so that her Doc Martins were well seen by the crowd. Pulling a slashed Distillers shirt on she looked at herself in the mirror. "I don't look to bad," she said out loud.

"Um Ramira," Lilian asked.

"Yeah Lilian?"

"If you want people to notice you, you have to put make up on. You know to project yourself towards the crowd and all."

"Jeez I'm terrible with that stuff. Never needed to put any, ever."

"Well that is true you are very pretty naturally but for this business you need a bit of drama."

"Shit, I don't even have any makeup with me," Ramira pouted.

"You can use mine if you want. I'll even help you if you'd like," Lilian said.

"That'd be like a miracle." So Ramira sat down in front of Lilian and stayed as still as she could, by the time Lilian was done Ramira couldn't tell it was her.

She had used dark kohl to outline the rims of her eyes, given her a blood red pout, covered up some of the red in her cheeks and nose, and put some dark blue eye shadow on. "You look great Ramira," the ring announcer said proudly.

Laughing Ramira joked, "Yeah but I think this is more Truant styled."

As the girls laughed, a sharp knock came to the door. A head poked itself in, "Five minutes to show Lilian, fifteen to your debut Truant."

Sighing Lilian got up, "Well good luck."

"Yeah I'll need it."

As Sunday Night Heat started rolling along Ramira realized she was scheduled to do a run in with Lita.

Hands shaking Ramira walked outside to where the segment was being filmed. Taking a deep breathe, she exhaled and picked up the sledgehammer that had been provided to her from a prop guy.

"Lita. My my my what a lovely sight to be seeing you. Oh and it seems your little guard dog isn't around. Now where could he possibly be," Snitsky asked leering at the red head.

"He is away at an emergency…" Lita stammered.

Smiling Snitsky pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. Hitting a few buttons, Lita noticed her cell phone vibrating. Picking it up she looked at the number than at Snitsky. "Seems familiar lovely," he gleamed at her. Looking nervously around Lita started to breathe quickly, backing up into a car she was suddenly trapped between Snitsky and the car.

Reaching out to touch her face, he leaned in. His face dangerous meshed up against Lita he breathed, "I have you all to myself. But the question is what to do with you?" He brought his hand up to cup her chest when suddenly, he was sent sprawling sideways.

Bringing the sledgehammer across her shoulders a smiling Truant drawled at him, "That is defiantly not the way to hit on a lady. In fact let me give you some pointers on how to properly hit on someone." Smiling a sadistic smile she swung the sledgehammer again and caught him square in the ribs and sent him flying into a wall.

Walking up to the slumped form formally known as Gene Snitsky, she crooked her finger and put it under his chin. Snarling she spat, "That is how you hit on someone. You sick bastard." The camera closed in to see her smile at him then push his face away from her.

Picking up the sledgehammer she slung it across her shoulders and walked out of the garage area.

Hey wait up. Lita said clamoring behind her, "Who are you."

Pausing Ramira smiled and stated simply, "I'm Truant. Nice to meet you." And with that she spun around and continued to walk away.


	3. Jobber

Months Later Ramira received a call. It had been early in the morning and she had just woken up not more than fifteen minutes before her cell phone had gone off.

"Ramira," a voice asked over the phone.

"Yeah," she asked her voice still husky from sleep.

"Its your mother," the voice said lightly.

"Oh, um hi mom how are you," Ramira said suddenly alert.

"Vince told us about your situation, and your father and I are worried."

"Mom look it's not Vince's fault that the market isn't right for me right now. Fans want to see pretty girls like Trish and Christine Hemme, not alternative girls like me."

"Oh but honey," her mother sighed, "I'm worried about your health."

Sighing Ramira looked down and touched her left knee gently. She had ripped her ACL while being pushed down a set of ring steps during Heat. Jackie had apologized profusely afterward because Ramira had not been set up right. It had been bad news ever since then, since she had been regulated the role of Jobber.

_God that's such a dirty word_ Ramira thought. Every time she got a call that she would be appearing in a match she would arrive at the arena and be treated lower than dirt. The only person on staff who would treat her with respect and decency was Lilian Garcia. But it was a rarity these days that she worked with Lilian.

"Honey… Honey are you listening to me," her mother's voice echoed through the cell phone.

"Yeah mom I'm here," Ramira snapped back to reality.

"Where are you right now," her mother asked worriedly.

"I'm in a motel that charges by the hour," she sighed. As a jobber good paying jobs that came along were infrequent. So to save money, she drove her 2000 Mitsubishi Lancer to every match. She helped set up the ring for money, and she slept in seedy motels where a prostitute had stretched her legs not more than hours before.

Laughing Ramira thought of the absurdity of it all. "Ramira do you want Dad and I to wire money to you," her mother whispered through the phone.

"No mom I said I wanted to do this on my own and I am going to do it on my own."

"I know sweetie, but do you really have to be stubborn about this all. We could just," her mother trailed off.

"Mom I know that you are concerned but please just let me do my thing. I love you and I'll give you a call next week," Ramira said coldly.

"Okay honey I love you," her mother whispered quietly

"Bye mom." Ramira hung up the phone and sat on the edge of the bed crying softly. She wanted to make it so bad, but she was injured, did not have the right look, and was not willing to sleep her way to the top. "What am I going to do," she yelled out loud.

The only echo back was the thumping of the bed from next door.


	4. I've Got the Remedy

Two weeks after her phone call from her mother Ramira found herself outside of WWE headquarters once again.

But this time she had a scheduled appointment with Vince. This time around, however, she was not as sure as she had been in previous meeting.

As a jobber she did a good job. She kept the fans interested during the house shows; she was friendly and courteous to the ring crew whom she helped every time Raw or Smackdown would air. But in reality Ramira knew that being a WWE superstar was a one in a million shot. Most likely Vince had called her in to give her a pink slip or ask her to move down to OVW. Either way Ramira was not looking forward to the meeting.

Walking into the lobby she noticed the same secretary as months before. Smiling she went over and leaned up against the desk. "Hey ya chickie! What's up," she asked snapping her gum rather loudly

"What! Oh it's you again," the secretary sneered. Her hand quickly moved to the phone.

"Hey don't go and call security now, I actually have a scheduled appointment with Vinny Mac this time," Ramira rushed.

"You do," the secretary asked incredulously.

"Yes, try looking under Ramira Kitsuma you might actually find something."

The secretary dropped her head and looked at Vince's schedule for the day. There it was clear as day, Ramira Kitsuma at four o'clock.

"You're early," the secretary said.

"Yeah well always got to make a good impression," Ramira laughed.

Glaring at her the secretary snapped, "Eighth floor, suite nine. Don't get lost," and went back to doing whatever secretaries did.

_What a friendly person_ Ramira thought.

Taking the elevator ride up to the suite Ramira presented herself to another secretary. This one looked more motherly and quite a bit older as well.

"Oh you must be Vince's four o'clock."

"Yeah," Ramira said

"Oh well you can sit right over there while I inform Mr. McMahon that you're here."

Settling down into the leather sofa Ramira noted that the foyer was sparsely decorated.

_That's Vince for you always looking to cut back on something or someone_ she groaned inwardly.

"Ms. Kitsuma, Mr. McMahon will see you now," the elderly woman chirped from behind the desk.

Opening up the door Ramira stepped inside to the office and was greeted by a smiling Vince. "Ramira! It is so nice to see you again."

"You too Vince."

"You don't sound to happy Ramira," he stated.

"Well I've been injured for almost six months so I wouldn't think that I should be so happy," she articulated madly.

"Yes, I heard about that most unfortunate incident with Jackyln I don't think she meant it purposely she's been with us for a long time."

"I know Mac. Well let's just cut the shit and talk about what we are really here for Vince I am tired and I am behind schedule to take my medication," Ramira snapped suddenly.

Slightly taken aback Vince's smile dropped, but in an instant it was back. "I just wanted to personally give you this and wish you well." And with that he handed her a manila envelope.

_Oh shit here it is a pink_ _slip_ Ramira thought. Opening it up, quickly Ramira noted that it was a plane ticket. A ticket to New Orleans!

"Good luck on Smackdown Ramira I think the market's good enough for you right now."

"Are you serious Mr. McMahon," she shouted. However, she received nothing but a smile. Leaping over the desk she hugged him.

"Somehow I knew you were going to do that Ramira," he laughed.


	5. Bar Flies

_AN: In this Chapter John is finally added! Sorry for such the long wait! Oh yeah John's POV is included also. _

Arriving Sunday night Ramira was a bundle of nerves. Knowing that she was actually going to make her Smackdown entrance on Tuesday when it was filmed. Smiling she pulled her Lancer into the parking lot of the New Orleans Hilton, _finally a nice clean bed to sleep on_ Ramira thought.

Wearing a broad smile Ramira checked in and carried her two suitcases into the elevator and up three floors.

Settling into her miniscule room she threw herself down into the comfort of the queen size bed. Resting her eyes for a moment she heard a distinct pattern thumping from the next room over accompanied by sporadic moaning. _Well I guess something don't change no matter where you are_.

Looking down onto the street that ran parallel to the Hilton, Ramira noticed a small bar.

Feeling particularly thirsty she didn't bother to change out of her traveling clothes. Her ripped black jeans, Doc Martins, and ancient Green Day top were wrinkled from hours sitting in a car. She didn't care; she made her way down to the bar.

**John's POV**

John Cena was wasted, again. As soon as he had finished with Stacey he had rolled out of bed, gotten dressed, and gone for a drink.

_Jesus I'm tired of this life. Tired of backpacking from place to place three hundred days a year, never staying in one place longer than to rumple the sheets with some fan_.

Ordering several rounds of bourbon John began to drink away his unhappiness. Around his fifth or tenth shot a woman entered the bar.

_Damn she's hot_ he thought abruptly. Her jeans had the expensive distressed treatment, jeans that looked like they were painted on her they were so tight.

Her t-shirt… "Green, green Tuesday," he murmured out loud he couldn't exactly see what the shirt said that well. Whatever the shirt said it made her chest stand out.

Her face was beautiful as well. From what he could tell she had almond eyes, a small mouth and high check bones. Her hair was a glamorous, blue black that was stick straight around her face.

As she moved to the back of the bar, John couldn't stop himself. He just had to reach out and touch her beautiful…

"Who the fuck are you to touch my ass," the girl yelled gaining almost the entire bar's attention.

"I'm John Cena baby come on you wanna have a roll with the champ," his words were slurring together at this point because of the amount of alcohol.

"No, I defiantly don't know where yourself has been. And from the looks of your getup I'd say in the ghettos of this town probably getting your 'freak' on. Fuckin poser," the girl spat.

"You're calling me a poser," he said angrily. He stood up only to miss his footing and collapse on the ground.

"Yeah I am and I don't think you are in any condition to refute the statement," she laughed angrily.

"Yeah well as soon as I get up I'll show you a thing or too about, about, about…" he started slurring his words together so much that Ramira lost track of what he was saying.

"Look buddy hur clearly drunk. I tink its about tham yous got outta hur," The bartender said in his clear bayou accent.

**Ramira's POV**

'I'll take him," Ramira volunteered whether she liked him or not he was a coworker and she wasn't about to leave a coworker behind, even if he was a lecher.

Dragging his sorry pimped out self up three flights of stairs; it finally occurred to her that she had no idea where he was staying.

_Dammit I should have asked the fucker before he passed out on me_. Using her card she swiped into her room. Opening up the bathroom she pulled Cena into the bathroom, sitting him in the shower stall she turned on the water at full blast, cold.

Unfortunately the only response she got out of him was a mumble and a few slurred curses. "Eh he'll still be there when I come back."

Walking into her room she ended up pushing all the furniture as close to the walls as she could. Pushing the mattress off the box springs, she then proceeded to spilt up the sheets and make John's bed on the mattress on the floor.

After finishing the small task she moved back to the bathroom and pulled him out of the shower. Taking off his jersey which no longer reeked of bourbon, but just was soaked with water she threw it into the corner. Taking off his shoes and socks she steadied him against the bathroom wall.

Taking a towel she toweled him off and walked him to bed. When he collapsed in bed she covered him up with towels knowing that his jeans would seep through the sheets make him cold. After finishing up using all the towels on him she brought over the trash can and placed it next to his head.

"Just don't throw up on the carpet," she said out loud. Although at this point John was fast asleep on his side.

Taking off her jeans and boots she tossed them on top of the dresser and curled up on top of the box springs.

_Just the way to start my life in the WWE_ she thought.


	6. Good Days, Bad Days, and Days Inbetween

John Cena awoke with a start. He was startled by the sound of a shower running. Scanning the room quickly he noticed that it was clearly not his room. The room was much smaller, the furnishings a bit shabbier, and the smell a lot staler than his room.

Pulling himself up into a sitting position he noticed that he was on a mattress, on the ground. "What the hell happened last night," he asked to an empty room.

He remembered a beautiful woman, her yelling at him and him falling down, but that was as far as his memory went before he blacked out.

Pulling himself up he started to leave but noticed that the room was spinning and that he was shirtless. _Now what the hell_…

"Hey ghetto boy, are you up yet," a voice shouted from the bathroom. The noise echoed around the room and John winced at the pitch and tone of the voice.

Turning his head slowly he saw a figure emerge from the bathroom. It was the girl from last night. Instead today she was wearing sneakers, black sweatpants and a black tank top on. She had something hanging from her nose.

"Whatcha starin' at," she asked him.

"Um ya got something in your," he struggled to put the words in a way that wouldn't offend her.

"My nose I know. It's called a septum ring," she said straight forwardly.

He stared at her blankly.

"It's like a bull ring. Goes through the flesh between your nostrils," to make her point she pulled the ring around and jiggled it a little. "Like this you see."

"Oh," he said slowly, "didn't know that they did that."

"Yeah it isn't exactly the most popular piercing in the free world," she responded.

A dead silence fell between them. "So how did I get here exactly," he asked.

"Well you got mightily plastered last night and ended up sprawled out on the bar's floor."

"Geez I gotta lay off the sauce," he said sheepishly.

"Yes you do. Anyway I was feeling gracious and hauled your sorry self back up here, tossed you in the shower and spilt the bed. Wouldn't want a co-worker to get dumped in the drunk tank, they aren't the most swanky places to stay. Trust me I would know," she laughed hollowly.

"Gee well thanks," he stuttered out.

"Eh, anytime just try and not make a habit out of it. Oh and by the way my names Ramira in case you were wondering who the hell I am. I am gonna work with you Tuesday," she said extending her hand.

Taking her hand he shook it. "That's really cool," John brightened up, the girl was pretty decent, not bad to look at and certainly nice. "Well um… do I owe you anything?"

With those words her face went dark. 'You don't owe me anything and I owe you nothing. You got that?"

"Um yeah." _Wonder what her malfunction is_ John thought.

While lost deep in thought Ramira walked around the room and gathered up a few Advil and a small plastic glass of water. "Here you may want to take a few of these."

"Thanks," he said plucking the pills out of her hand and gulping them down with water. Handing him his shirt from last night he put it on even though it was a bit damp.

"Sorry about that I jus kinda shoved you into the shower to see if you would wake up at all."

"Eh no problem it's the thought that counts," he laughed out loud.

"I guess," she echoed. "Um look, I'm gonna go get some breakfast you can come if you want," she offered.

At the mention of breakfast John's stomach rolled. "Um I don't think my stomach is agreeing to that."

"Hey it was a shot," she said. "I'll be back in an hour. You can gather your things up and head out if you'd like. Just shut the door behind you," and with that Ramira walked out of her room and off to breakfast.

As soon as she left the room John got up and walked out the door. However on his way out the door a picture struck him. Not one to snoop normally, he felt like he was invading her privacy by looking at the picture.

The picture was of blond headed woman holding an infant in a blanket. Next to her stood a man with multiple facial piercings and a tattooed tear running down the side of his face. Flipping the picture over it read. **_Me, Rick and Baby makes three. May 14 2001._**

Suddenly questions began to float through John's head. _Who was the blond girl and why did she bear such similarity to Ramira? I'll have to find out more._ As he laid the picture back on the small dresser and headed out the door.

****


	7. Smackdown!

Ramira's Monday was spent exploring the French Quarter, buying a few things for her stage outfit and making calls home explaining to friends and family to watch her on Thursday night, when the show aired.

Clad in red Dickie work pants and a wife beater Ramira knocked on the women's dressing room. A blonde headed Lilian stuck her head out to see who it was.

"Ramira? I was wondering when you were going to come," she yelled excitedly.

Lilian hugged the young woman. Unused to the affection Ramira went stiff and just patted her on the back rather awkwardly. "Hey how are you doing," Ramira questioned.

"Oh I've been just fine. Dave finally asked me out on a date," she replied excitedly.

"Dave?" Ramira struggled to put a face to the name

"Batista that sexy looking beast on Raw," Lilian giggled.

"Oh that one," Ramira thought hard finally when his face popped into her mind. "Oh that one," she exclaimed. "You sure know how to pick them lady," she laughed at Lilian.

"Well laugh all you want missy one of these days you'll find yourself in love too," Lilian joked.

"I think not," Ramira shot back quickly.

As the night wore on Ramira got more and more prepared, Lilian helped her prepare her makeup at first before she had to hurry out ringside to start announcing.

Ramira put on a pair of short shorts over pink tights with black fishnets over it. She wore her trusty Doc Martin boots that went midway up her shins, and popped a Distillers cut up t-shirt over a black camisole. Lastly she put her hair up into a pony tail and put on her fingerless black biker gloves. Fixing her septum piercing in her nose before going out on stage Ramira sighed into the mirror.

_Some days I wish I could just be normal and as beautiful as Lilian_ Ramira wished.

An abrupt knock on the woman's door brought Ramira back to reality. Miss Jackie answered the door and nodded to Ramira signaling that her time was up.

"You gettum' rookie," she smiled.

Following the stage hand through the arena to the gorilla, Ramira started to breathe heavily. _Well its time to show them what I got _she thought.

It was a moment later that she noticed that Crazed Young Peeling by the Distillers was playing.

Ramira stood at the top of the walkway and struck a pose. With her hand on her hip and a sneer on her lips she was silently mouthing "Fuck Off" to the cameras. When the words "**Well the birds have been freed from their cages"** blared out of the loudspeakers she sauntered down the walkway.

Walking up the stairs to the ring she stared at the ropes. Grasping the top rope she jumped over them.

Lilian announced "At one hundred and thirty pounds from the streets of Buffalo New York Truant!"

The crowd responded mildly to Lilian's announcement. Many fans were just plain baffled by the street urchin in the middle of the ring.

Walking to the center of the ring she smiled a bit at the crowd before Stacey's music started. The Diva got a loud pop from the audience as she shimmed through the ropes.

"Your going down bitch," Kiebler said haughtily.

"Well see about that," Ramira yelled.

Squaring up in the middle of the ring it suddenly became very apparent to Stacey that Ramira was much stronger than her. Throwing her into the corner Ramira quickly moved into a spear into the corner. Stacey let out a squeak of surprise at the forcefulness of the new comer.

Standing up she grabbed Stacey by the back of her head and dragged her to the middle of the ring. Pulling her close she then attempted to whip Stacey into the ropes, however, Ms. Kiebler was a bit too quick for that. Bringing her boot up she caught Ramira right in the face.

Her sharp heel caught the fragile skin right above Ramira's eye. As the skin tore, blood began to run down her face. Noticing now that Stacey was above her, because the blow had landed her on her back, she rolled on to her side and attempted to pull herself up.

But by then Stacey had taken advantage of Ramira's disadvantage and exploited it by bulldogging her into the ground. Shaking her head to free the cobwebs that started invading her mind, she vague felt being rolled over, the first time the referee's hand hit the mat it jarred her senses, and by the second time she had recovered.

Pushing Stacey off of her she stood up. Stacey attempted to smack Ramira in her face, but she caught her hand and brought it behind Stacey's back.

Hearing the screams come from the popular Diva, she let her arm go. Desperately trying to scramble to the corner, Stacey looked around for anything to get her out of the ring. However, it was too late.

Ramira managed to grab her ankle and pull into the ring. Her face bloodied she lifted Stacey up and performed a swinging neck breaker, which quickly brought the Diva to the ground.

Gathering up into a pin Ramira waited for the referee to call the three count. When he finally did she began to stand up shakily Ramira looked through the blood pouring down her face and saw that Stacey was being carried away in a stretcher, plucking a microphone from Lilian she smiled and spoke, "It's all fun and games until someone gets knocked the fuck out, then its my job."

Raising her arms she smiled cockily at the crowd. Although the reaction was ones of jeers and mixed chants it was still a much better reaction than what she got in the beginning.

Tossing the microphone down, she rolled underneath the bottom rope and marched up the ramp. Her head held high.


End file.
